


Is This Real Life or Just A Nervous Breakdown?

by LLN3dseestheLight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Phantom Halo (2014), Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Married Life, Marvel Cameos, Phantom Cat Newt, Sitcom, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Spoilers for Teen Wolf Seasons 1-4, Spoilers for WandaVision, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), Tropes, married, wandavision inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLN3dseestheLight/pseuds/LLN3dseestheLight
Summary: Stiles Stilinski's life has been tragic, the death of his mother at age ten, being kidnapped and held hostage by an evil corporation before he turned fifteen, finding out werewolves, and all of that trauma that brought when he was sixteen, possessed by a fox spirit bend on causing strife and chaos before he was seventeen. Now, at not quite eighteen, he was dealt the final blow and by none other than the one person he thought of as his brother. Stiles was kicked out of the McCall pack by the True Alpha. Stiles is lost, alone and angry when an old enemy makes Stiles an offer he can't refuse.Or, Stiles lost the plot and turned his life into a sitcom.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish, Newt (Maze Runner)/Stiles Stilinski, Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Samuel Emerson/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	1. PROLOGUE: THE BEGINNING… IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS?

_"You think Stiles-skinny, defenseless Stiles, is the Nogitsune?" Derek Hale asked, in response to Ethan's claim. Derek stood in front of the light blue colored jeep, its hood up; he's gazing into its engine as if it held all the answers to the questions he didn't know how to ask._

_"A dark, powerful spirit." A Nogitsune was a spirit called upon by a Kitsune that wanted vengeance for a perceived wrong. "This thing wants to possess someone, and it chooses Stiles?" Why would it choose Stiles of all people, Derek wondered? It didn't make any sense?_

_"Why not take someone bigger, stronger- You know, someone with a little more," A thought occurred to Derek, a flash of insight that was rare for him, but he thought he knew_ **why** _the Nogitsune had chosen Stiles, "… **power**?"_

Sheriff John Stilinski sat in his office in the Beacon Hills County Sheriff's Station, wondering where he had gone wrong in his relationship with his son. What mistakes had he made? Why did Stiles still after everything they had been through, why did his son still think he had to _lie_ to John? Because this was not the boy he had raised, not the one his wife, Claudia, had started too before her illness took hold of her. John was tired of the lies, but until John broke through the walls that Stiles put up. Since Stiles refused to talk about anything that happened while he had been possessed by the Nogitsune. John was unsure how he could help Stiles. John didn't want to make wherever his son was going through worse.

There had been an incident involving Stiles a couple of years ago. Just after Stiles had started his Freshman year of high school. Stiles had been kidnapped by an unsavory group. Stiles had been held hostage by this group for almost eight months. It had ended in multiple deaths, the collapse of the group's main headquarters building in a fiery inferno, and the court trials of the few main heads of the group that had been apprehended by the police. Shortly after that, Stiles shaved his hair into a buzzcut and told John he never wanted to talk about what had happened to him again.

Five months later, unbeknown to John, during the latter half of Stiles's Sophomore year, werewolves happened. John was shaky about the timeline of events that followed, but he knew it had to do with Kate Argent being revealed to be behind the Hale Fire and Peter Hale's death. John did know about a month, and a half later, the whole thing with the Alpha Pack and the Darach had started. John wasn't the biggest fan of all the supernatural bullshit. He could admit that it had all come along right when Stiles had needed the distraction. John honestly thought that the group would never recover from the losses that Stiles had dealt them, then two months ago, they had opened a new building, here in Beacon Hills! Returned to their regular operations with new leadership, and the kidnapping or the events Stiles had suffered during the abduction were not repeated; at least, this was what their lawyers had promised. When John had raised some concerns about the group being in his town.

John though sometimes wondered how long Stiles had _actually_ been possessed by the Nogitsune? The events of the discovery of Stiles's possession by the Nogitsune had happened a month after John discovered that the group that had kidnapped Stiles had set up residents in their town. Which meant Stiles had to have known about it. There was no way John could have kept that from Stiles, and he hadn't even tried.

There were days that John cursed the day Scott McCall followed Stiles home from school like a lost stray. John didn't know what Scott had said to Stiles? But he did know the two had some sort of fight if the destroyed expression on his son's face when he had come home one night after he was supposed to have been having a movie night with the pack.

John was by no means impressed with the True Alpha- H _ow was that even a thing?_ The conversations he'd had with Peter Hale and no, John didn't think too hard about how or why Peter Hale was live when he was supposed to be dead. And Chris Argent led John to believe such a thing wasn't possible as a True Alpha. Right now, though, John had more significant problems than werewolves.

Stiles was missing. Stiles had been missing for three days now. John wasn't sure why but he had the feeling that his son was in danger… _When wasn't the kid_ , John thought with a sigh as a knock sounded, "Come in," John called out to whoever was behind the door? His office door opened to reveal Jordan Parrish with a worried look on his face, "What is it?"

"There is something you need to see." Jordan frowned, "And maybe you should ask Derek to come too?" Those were not words John wanted to hear. Thirty minutes and one phone call later found John, Jordan, and Derek Hale near the north edge of town, near the warehouse district that was slowly being taken over by the Rossum Corporation.

At least that's what _should_ have been there. "What the hell is that?" John asked his tone was a mix of awe and fear.

"I found it during my patrol about thirty minutes ago," Jordan stated to John, "It wasn't there three hours ago when I came by here at the start of my shift."

The 'It' in question was an energy barrier of some sort. It had a flashing rotation of bright pixilated primary colors, a low buzzing of static came from it, reminding John of an old television set he's had in the early nineties before everything went to HD,

"Well," Derek said, "at least we have a good idea where Stiles might be."

"Why do you say that?" Jordan asked, his tone confused.

"The last time Stiles went missing was after being possessed by a thousand-year-old Japanese fox demon two months ago. Things have settled down from that chaos, and Stiles goes missing again? Then this thing," Derek pointed at the barrier, "shows up. Do you really think the two aren't connected?"

"Why would they be?" Jordan asked, not seeing the connection between the two. The way Derek did, not that John could blame Parrish, he was still new to town and didn't know what sort of trouble magnet that Stiles was.

"There are no coincident in Beacon Hills," Derek said flatly.

Jordan sighed and looked at John, "I'm pretty sure this," motioning to the barrier, "is above our paygrade, sir."

Derek snorted, "Who are we going to call? The FBI? CIA? How would we even begin to explain anything that has happened in this town? We can't take the chance on anyone looking too deeply into what goes on here!"

"Actually," John said slowly. Not liking this situation, but what choice did he have. Jordan was right. They were in no way capable of dealing with something like…whatever that barrier is "There may be someone I can call." John fished his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he never thought he would use,

" _This is Fury. You better have a good fucking reason for calling me on this line!"_

"Hey, One-Eye, it's Johnny Cage." John waited until the man on the other end of the line finished cussing after hearing the name, "I'm calling in my favor." John jerks the phone away from his ear and mostly incoherent frustrated scream from the other end of the phone.

***

Stiles stumbled; the inky black darkness surrounding him filled him with the primal fear that every human had of it. He couldn't see anything but a small speck of light that seemed to grow smaller the closer Stiles tried to get to it. Stiles didn't know how he got here. Or where here even was, for that matter. What he did know was he didn't like it and that he wanted out of the darkness. Stiles could hear Scott's words ringing in his ears. _"… It's your fault that Allison got hurt!"_

Allison Argent had gotten stabbed by the Oni when the Nogitsune was still in charge of Stiles's body. She was in a coma, her recovery was slow going, and it was uncertain if she would ever wake up or walk again if she did. Though Allison fared better than Aiden, who had been killed by the Oni, the Nogitsune had been in control. Not that Scott seemed to care too much for the wolf's loss, not the way Aiden's twin, Ethan, did. _"…I don't care! It was your body that thing was in! **You** killed my brother!"_

Stiles's relationship with Malia Tate was…stressful at best. Stiles did care deeply about the coyote shifter. It wasn't love between them, but maybe it could have been? Whatever could have been between her and Stiles seemed to be over since Theo Raeken showed up; their relationship had taken a downward turn. Malia cheated on him with Theo. Yet, Stiles had ended up the bad guy, _"…You took advantage of me while we were in Eichen House!"_

Hunger familiarly radiated from the shadows. Stiles thought he saw the glint of silver teeth and the stark white of a bandaged covered face, grinning at him from the void. The speck of light, though had grown larger, now, it beckoned Stiles closer to it. Even as the most hurtful of Scott's words repeated in his head, causing Stiles to stumble again, " _…You shouldn't come around the pack anymore. You are a liability to us."_

Scott McCall had said and had done selfish things since he had been bitten by Peter Hale. But those words…those words… Stiles flailed when his foot hit something hard; he looked up and was blinded by the light that now filled his eyesight, looking down. He saw his foot had hit a wooden step; rubbing his eyes, he looked around. He could see a wooden railing, he grabbed on to it with a hand and began to climb up the steps it wasn't long before he came to a door it was ajar, and that was where the source of the light was coming from… _"When is a door, not a door?"_

Stiles reached out and pushed the door open. The light grew brighter and brighter until it blinded him once more. Then… he blinked and found himself in…the living room of a nicely decorated middle-class home—there was something off about this, though Stiles couldn't put his finger on what it was—if he were living in the nineteen fifties! Stiles looked down at himself and squeaked softly; his hands were the same gray color as the walls! And the clothes! In all honesty, they weren't that bad; he actually wore something similar when he had to dress nicely but still casually. This was wrong! Everything was decorated in blacks, whites, and grays. The walls, the furniture, the paintings on the walls, the curtains over the windows, all of it was wrong— Stiles heard footsteps and turned to see a pair of legs belonging to a man walk down a set of stairs that led to the upstairs floor of the house Stiles found himself standing in. Stiles looked around in a panic, looking for somewhere to hide…

" _Tommy!"_ Stiles heard a soft male voice exclaimed. The British accent caused a shiver to go down his spine. Only one voice had ever caused that reaction, but that person was someone lost to Stiles long ago. Stiles looked up to see a young man, perhaps a year or two older than him, dressed in a soft-looking white sweater and gray pants. Mischief filled his dark brown eyes, honey-blond hair fell over his forehead in sweeping waves.

"Tommy," the young man smiled brightly, holding out his arms, "welcome home, luv."

Stiles let himself fall— into the memories of being Thomas— thoughts and feelings Stiles had thought he had put away, had to put away if he was going to continue with his life after…what he had suffered. So, he let himself fall—into whatever this was— And Stiles/Thomas smiled back, stepping into the blond man's arms.

"It's good to be home, to be with you…Newt," Stiles/Thomas said, then kissed Newt passionately but not _too_ passionately; he was a gentleman, somethings should be saved for the privacy of the bedroom after all.


	2. Filmed Before A Live Studio Audience

_"Have you heard?" Asked the pretty young woman sitting at the table outside of the café. Her hair was styled in the most popular of nineteen fifties fashion. Her dress the most expensive of the time. Her friend who sat across from her, as she rolled the strand of pearls between her fingers, "A newlywed couple just moved to town, a regular husband and husband if you know, what I mean?"_

_The friend rolled his dark-colored eyes but leaned towards the woman, putting an elbow on the table, to share what juicy gossip he knew, "I heard they left the big wicked city to find a quiet life. From what I understand, one is a witty spark of a guy; his belief will make things real in this a small-town locale—if you know what I mean."_

_The woman smirked, somewhat meanly, as she said, "The other is a hubby whose part thespian, phantom-cat, and small-time criminal, so I hear. How will this duo fit in our lovely community of Gladeview? By sharing a love like we've never seen? I think it's a bit overrated."_

_"You are such a cynic, Erica." The young man said._

_"And you are such an optimist, Danny." Said the young woman._

***

Stiles rushed into the kitchen, ignoring the unsettling feeling that the monochrome of the room's décor gave him. He quickly grabbed the apron that was hanging on the wall, tying it around his waist. He's going to cook breakfast for his husband this morning. _His husband_! Mr. Samuel Newton Emerson-Stilinski! Newt was _his husband_! Stiles is _never_ going to get tired of thinking of Newt in that way. As his _husband_! Stiles waved his hand, and a cabinet opened dishes began to fly out of it. Using his spark powers had never come so easily to him as they had since they moved to Gladeview. Stiles couldn't understand why he had been so reluctant to use them before? He had never felt more in control of them as he did now. Stiles found that it was harder not to use them, but Stiles did know that it would be unwise for anyone but him and Newt to know about Stiles's powers. He looked around the kitchen and frowned when he saw the wooden baseball bat leaning by the back door.

"You don't belong there," Stiles murmured to himself. With a flick of his fingers, he sent the bat hurling through the air and, to his horror, right into Newt's chest as he came through the kitchen door. Stiles blinked in surprise when all the bat did was harmlessly bounce off Newt's chest and fall to the floor.

Newt looked down at the bat, then back up at Stiles, "My husband and his flying bats."

Stiles walked over to Newt smiling, running a finger down Newt's chest as he said, "My husband and his indestructible chest." Then frowned as laughter from multiple people filled the air. Stiles looked around the kitchen but couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. He decided to ignore it; for now, he'd worry if it happened again.  
  
"Aren't we a fine pair?" Newt asked, leaning up against the counter. A content expression on his face as if he was as happy as Stiles was in this moment. Though Stiles wondered when Newt walked over there and why Stiles hadn't seen him do it. Stiles shook off the thought and asked, walking around and opening the refrigerator, "What do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, and black coffee?"   
  
"I say, "Oh, we haven't gone shopping yet," Newt said with a grin.  
  
"Well, that explains the empty refrigerator," Stiles said, looking into the empty appliance. As Newt walked around the counter over to the wall where a calendar hung on the wall.  
  


"Tommy?" Newt asked, with a thread of concern in his voice, "Is there something special about today?"   
  
Stiles closed the refrigerator door and frowned, "Well, I know the apron is a bit much, dear," Stiles said, smiling, "but I am doing my best to blend in."  
  
"No, no, there on the calendar." Newt said, pointing at the calendar, "Someone's drawn a little heart right above today's date."  
  
"Oh, yes, the heart," Stiles said, frowning. What could be so important that one of them had drawn a heart of all things on today's date? He couldn't let Newt know he had forgotten. How could he spin this? Stiles wondered, then just decided to turn it back on Newt; he had to have put the heart on the calendar because Stiles hadn't. "Well, don't tell me you've forgotten, Newt."

"Forgotten"? Newt asked, shaking his head, "Oh, Tommy, I'm incapable of forgetfulness.  
I remember everything." He grinned, coming back over to the counter and leaning back against it, "That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm incapable of exaggeration. I'm an English, you know."

"You grew up in the bad side of East L.A, Newt, your accent is the only thing from England." Stiles deadpanned, then leaned closer to the blond man as he asked. "What's so important about today's date."  
  
"What was the question again?" Newt deflected the question with a hopeful, "Oh, well, perhaps, you've forgotten too."  
  
"Me?" Stiles denied it, thinking that this wasn't working. He had to get Newt to admit he had forgotten why that heart was there on the calendar, "I've been looking forward to it."   
Newt made a humming sound but otherwise said nothing. Darn, Stiles thought, Newt had always been a hard nut to crack, "Today, we are celebrating..."

"You bet we are," Newt muttered under his breath.  
  


"It's the first time we..." Stiles coached.  
  
"...have ever celebrated this occasion before." Newt finished the sentence with a sly grin, "It's going to be a special day!"   
  
Stiles narrowed his eyes at the blond. _Did he really think that was going to work,_ Stiles wondered but said, "Perhaps an evening..." Stiles still continued to coach, just wanting to see where Newt would go with this line of reasoning,  
  


"Of great significance..." Newt nodding his head with great importance as if following Stiles's train of thought, "To us both!"   
  


"Oh, Naturally," Stiles said with a smile, verbal sparring with Newt was always fun.  
  


"Obviously." Newt murmured in relief, then looked at the clock on the wall, walking to the back door, "I'm off to work, then." Grabbing his coat off the hook by the door and putting it on. Once his jacket was on, Newt opened paused; he turned back to Stiles and blew him a kiss.

Stiles made a show of catching the kiss in the palm of his hand, "Have a good day, dear!" Stiles called out before Newt _phased_ walking through the closed door. Stiles frowned. He would have to have a long talk with Newt about using his phantom-cat abilities like that. It wouldn't do at all for the neighbors to see such a sight.

***

Stiles had just returned from grocery shopping about an hour after Newt had left for work. He loved the hemisphere of the small suburb of Gladeview. There was such a homey feeling to the place that he barely missed the life he had in Beacon Hills. Who would miss moments of stark terror followed by days of boredom? Who would miss having his friends and loved ones endanger at any given moment? Who would miss being betrayed by those he trusted?

Not, Stiles, that's who.  
  


After putting the groceries away, planning tonight's meal, and giving the kitchen a good cleaning, Stiles walked into the living room in time to hear a knock at the front door. Stiles frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. Being the homemaker in his marriage… _his marriage_ to Newt hadn't given Stiles time to make any new friends in Gladeview.

Stiles walked over to the door and opened it. A young woman with light blonde hair and big brown eyes breezed through his front door with a bright, friendly smile, " I'm Erica, your neighbor to the right." She said rapidly, "My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town," she grimaced comically, "so I wasn't." She paused. Taking in the look of the room with an approving glance, before saying, "So, what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly, how's your poker game, hon?"   
  
"I'm Stiles..." No, Stiles thought that was _wrong_. That's not what Newt called him, knew him by, "Er, Thomas..." But that _wasn't_ his name! Not really so, "Stiles." His face contorted in confusion. No _, that_ was wrong too. He didn't want to be Stiles, not here, not now. "My name is Thomas…of course, it's Thomas." Stiles frowned when he heard the laughter fill the room; the eerie feeling of being watched was overwhelming that he looked covertly around but couldn't find the source of the laughter.   
  
Erica hadn't noticed the laughter or Stiles's confusion about his own name because she said airily, "Thomas. Charmed." Erica walked over and made herself at home on the sofa, "Golly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?"  
  
"I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." How else did the woman think he and Newt moved in? By magic? Well, it was possible a little magic was used, maybe? Possibly? Stiles couldn't really remember; it seemed like he and Newt had lived here for weeks already.  
  
"So what's a single fella like you doing rattling around this big house?" Erica asked, her tone bordered on flirtish.   
  
"Oh, no, I'm not single." Stiles denied, quickly.   
  
"Oh, I don't see a ring," Erica stated with a smirk when Stiles looked down at his hands.  
  
"Well, I'm married." Stiles said to her, "To a man." Stiles told her as if the gender of who he was married to was important. Stiles knew no one in Gladeview cared who was one was married to. A polyamorous family was living down the street, for heaven's sake! No one would care that he was married to a man. But… "A human one," because that was the important thing. They had to blend in, "and tall." Because, you know, Newt was tall. At least he was taller than Stiles but only by a couple of inches! "As a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion. Just the two of us."  
  
"Oh, is it somebody's birthday?" Erica asked, excited.  
  
"Not a birthday." Stiles denied, as he came over to the sofa and sat down next to Erica.  
  
"Well, today isn't a holiday, is it?" Erica asked.  
  
"No, it's not a holiday."   
  
"An anniversary then?"   
  
"No—er, Yes!" Stiles agreed. Why? He didn't know. It just sounded like the answer he _should_ give her, "Yes! It's our anniversary!"  
  
"Oh, how marvelous! How many years?"   
  
"Well, it feels like we've always been together," Stiles told her.  
  
"Lucky guy. The only way Vernon would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named June 2nd. So, what do you have planned?" Erica asked grumpily.  
  


"How do you mean?" Stiles asked confused, why does he have to plan anything for that? Wasn't alone time just the two of them enough to celebrate that? Newt always seemed to like it when they cuddle and watched the newest episodes of their television shows. Stiles frowned though he couldn't remember the last time that they _had_ done that.  
  
"For your special night," Erica said with a grin. "A young thing like you doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene." Erica slapped her hand down on the sofa cushion between them before standing up. "Say, I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called "How to Treat Your Husband to Keep Your Husband," and let me tell you, what Vernon could really use is "How to Goose Your Wife, So You Don't Lose Your Wife."

Once more, the laughter sounded echoing in the room. The play on words hadn't been all that funny or witty, Stiles thought. They had just rhythmed.

  
"Hang on." Erica said, walking to the door and opening it," I'll go grab it, and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" Erica laughed as she breezed out the door just as quickly as she had walked through it.

Stiles leaned back against the sofa and wondered if he had just made a new friend?   
  
  



End file.
